was one of the only things that had kept me focused enough to become the success I was today.
And it was one of the only reasons I hadn’t jumped Michael Vining’s bones before last night.
I followed Mikey into the diner in a rapidly declining mood, but I couldn’t help but smile when I saw an actual Santa Claus dressed to the nines behind the counter. Whoever it was made the most perfect Santa with a real white beard and everything.
He was eating the hazelnut crepes.
“Don’t even think about it,” Mikey muttered with a smile in his voice.
“If Santa can have them…” I began.
“Santa is an obvious cardiac risk,” he whispered, cutting me off. “You’re a pro athlete.”
I didn’t even actually want the crepes. If I started the day with that much sugar, I’d want to take a nap as soon as we got back to the house which would completely botch my plans to seduce Mikey again. But I loved teasing him, and I wasn’t about to miss a chance to hear his prim lectures about macronutrients.
Solo hustled over to us with a pot of coffee. “Who needs the good stuff?”
Both of us raised our hands, and he laughed before quickly turning over our mugs and filling them. “We have a special sweet potato hash this morning with peppers, onions, kale, turkey bacon, and eggs in it. It’s really good if you’re in a savory mood. We also have a greek yogurt and muesli parfait and… what else? Oh! Brioche french toast with candied walnuts. Not to be missed. It’s my dad’s surefire way of cheering me up whenever I’m in a bad mood, and it’s on special today. You have to try it.”
I held out my hand for Mikey to go first.
“I’ll have the french toast please.” He lifted an eyebrow at me, but I ignored him.
“And I’ll try the sweet potato hash. Thanks.”
When he moved away to put our orders in, I could see Mikey’s wheels turning. “That sweet potato dish sounds good,” he murmured, pulling his phone out to make some notes.
“It sounds good because it is good. You make the exact same thing,” I reminded him.
He shook his head without looking up at me. “No. You’re thinking of the rosemary sweet potatoes I make with the bacon and onions. That’s a side dish at dinner.”
I took a sip of my doctored coffee and almost groaned in relief. We hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before, and I had high hopes for this cup of caffeine. Mikey sipped his absently while he continued tapping notes into his phone. When he finally finished, he slipped it into his pocket and looked up at me sheepishly.
“Sorry. That was rude of me.”
I made a dismissive gesture with my hand. “It’s fine. I’m still waking up.”
I moved my foot across the space beneath the table to rest along the edge of his. His eyes widened a little in surprise, but he pressed his foot back against mine.
“So… that was nice,” I began. “The Civettis talking about turning the lodge into a B&B.”
Mikey’s eyes turned dreamy. “Wouldn’t that be perfect? I can totally picture it. It would make the perfect bed-and-breakfast. Well, I mean… if it were mine, I’d probably want it to be a lodge with a fine-dining restaurant attached. I could offer breakfast, no problem, but I think Aster Valley could use a nice dinner restaurant as well. Like a date place. Something fancier than the takeout places around here.”
“Mm.” I sipped my coffee as I thought about it. “Good point. There really isn’t a place like that here, is there? Do you think the town can support it? Maybe with Steamboat so close?”
He shrugged. “If a cozy dinner place gets enough of a good reputation, people will drive to it. Besides, if you market it as a weekend getaway package for anniversaries and other special occasions, you’ll get plenty of people coming out from Denver. There are probably tons of couples who don’t need skiing but still want a wintery weekend away with a long wine-filled dinner by a cozy fireplace.”
I pictured the great room in the lodge that we hadn’t used. It had a huge stone fireplace and rich, wide-planked wood flooring. The picture windows along the back wall looked out over the slopes and trees. “You’d make it perfect,” I admitted. “The way you describe it makes me think of those old historic homes that have been turned into restaurants in New England.”
He nodded. “Exactly. We went